


crimson cabin

by jared19cantread



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Angst, Attempted Murder, Blood and Violence, CEO, Character Death, Emotional Hurt, Explicit Language, Gun Violence, Hurt No Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, Jealous Oikawa Tooru, M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Smut, Murder, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Pain, Soulmates, Thriller, Violence, Weapons, What Was I Thinking?, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, Yakuza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:27:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28767072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jared19cantread/pseuds/jared19cantread
Summary: Akaashi Keiji and Bokuto Koutarou follow Oikawa Tooru's peculiar directions to meet him out at a cabin in the woods for a technological detox, under the pretenses of a promised company collaboration.It turns out that Oikawa's peculiar, fluffy personality was the mask that hid the evil that lurked within.//loosely inspired by netlfix's hush// it gave me this mental image and i just had to run with it. i know the description sounds awful but just give it a try i promise :0
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	crimson cabin

**Author's Note:**

> hi this is my first oneshot! i tried writing a smut scene but i definitely got scared and shied away from it so it didnt rlly fully happen lmao but anyway just enjoy it i guess.
> 
> i didnt edit this at all, i've been working on it for the past two days and im just too excited to posted it so if you see any errors dont be afraid to yell at me in the comments 
> 
> hope you enjoy!

As the cab carried them out of the city, Akaashi watched as the miles and miles of concrete buildings transformed into thickets of dark green. The further they drove into the forest, the more a feeling of unease settled within the pit of Akaashi’s stomach. The forest, hidden behind the beautiful mask of nature, held an opulence with the unknown. The uninhabited land grew in abundance with isolation. While Akaashi had to admit that this forest was pretty, he also became increasingly aware that it was  _ not  _ home. 

Home was in the direction that they were driving away from. He much preferred the concrete jungle in comparison to the real one. Home was his tiny apartment that was encased in steel, glass, and poured cement. Home was the large corporate building that he co-owned with Bokuto, that held their company, Fukurodani. Home was the company work that he threw himself into and worked his ass off so that Fukorodani could become the top marketing business in all of Tokyo. It was strenuous and punishing, and left little room for weakness, but it was home. 

And, like many businesses strive for, one of the key skills Fukorodani held was good networking. It was the reason Akaashi and Bokuto were stuffed in the backseat of a cab, driving on a bumpy dirt road, their destination being a cabin in the woods, meant to host and kindle the beginnings of collaboration between Fukorodani and Aoba Johsai.

The two companies had always ran neck-in-neck with each other. It was always a wonder who would be at the top at the end of the work periods crunch, Fukordani always came out holding the gold. Each establishment housed outstanding marketing skills but Tooru Oikawa was a single man at the top, puppeting his corporation, and while he was incredibly hardworking, his solitaire playing style was nothing compared to the way Akaashi and Bokuto’s minds folded together like clockwork. In this type of business, two would always be better than one. Bokuto and Akaashi understood this, which is why they agreed on the whim of Oikawa’s business “getaway” proposition. Should this collaboration work, Fukorodani’s numbers would soar higher than they already were, and should it fail, well, they were already number one and would only be losing to themselves. Besides, they could always easily back out of any situation Oikawa might propose, should they begin sniffing any bad omens in the making. They had little to lose.

Oikawa’s original call had been… peculiar to say the least. The call came in late on a Friday night. Normally, no one would have been around to take the call but, Akaashi was known for staying in the office long after everyone had left. They didn’t get to the top by leaving the office on time. Work was never over. As Akaashi picked up the phone, he was shocked to hear Oikawa’s voice ring through the speaker. Fukurodani and Aoba Johsai had never held an animosity towards each other persay, but they were top competitors with each other, and there was definitely no reason for them to be calling each other on Friday evenings. Akaashi listened to Oikawa’s impromptu proposal, nonetheless. Akaashi noted that Oikawa had sounded frantic, but he wrote it off because Tooru Oikawa had  _ always _ been a weird guy. Akaashi began his monotonous, yet professional, interrogation, asking just  _ why _ Oikawa had called the office at this time. He had a pen and paper ready, waiting to jot down whatever might come out of Oikawa’s mouth, so that he could discuss it with Bokuto later on. However, when the words “collaboration” had spilled from Oikawa’s lips, Akaashi let his pen drop to the table. He barely took in the rest of the words that Oikawa had said, before Oikawa had ended the phone call with a “call me back when you both have decided.”

Needless to say, Akaashi did not make it back to his apartment that night. He had immediately rushed to Bokuto’s to deliver the message and discuss Oikawa’s proposition. The proposition in question being a collaboration between the two companies. It was unheard of and would surely stir up some sediment in the business world but, both Bokuto and Akaashi had agreed that it just  _ might _ work.

After several phone calls and virtual meetings back and forth, Oikawa had assured Bokuto and Akaashi that he had everything figured out, but that they needed to meet in person to finalize everything. Bokuto and Akaashi agreed because no good opportunities sprung forth when both parties were hiding behind screens. Oikawa had set up the “getaway that every good CEO deserved,” as he worded it. It was far into the depths of nature, secluded, and meant to be a detox from technology and people. Oikawa had stomped on Bokuto and Akaashi’s apprehension for the “technological” detox, with reassurances that it would help their words carry to one another better. Akaashi was still weary, but Bokuto seemed convinced. 

Now, as the road became bumpier and Akaashi’s view was being clouded by the dirt the tires of the cab were picking up, Akaashi only felt his apprehension double.The cab squealed to a stop and Akaashi let his eyes wander to the wooden cabin that was their destination. Akaashi turned to Bokuto who had long ago fallen asleep on his shoulder. His mouth was wide open and drool was making its way down his chin. Akaashi felt no need to hide the smile that played along his lips as he stared down at Bokuto. 

Their relationship was like no other relationship Akaashi had ever had with anyone. Having known each other for their entire lives, they were in no doubt close. They had always danced a line between friendship and… something else. They were with each other through everything, through family drama, deaths of loved ones, everything. They built a business from the ground up with each other. Since they were little, everything about their relationship felt like more than that of a best friend. When they hugged, they held each other for just a little  _ too  _ long for it to be friendly. But neither party had ever felt the need to address it. If they did, they risked losing what they already had built. Whatever they were then, they were comfortable. They both had a mutual understanding that they could be more but they were both terrified of what could happen if they took that step forward. These years upon years of friendly, yet lingering, touches and sleepover cuddles hadn’t turned intimate until a couple months ago. It had been a late night at the office and while the two were bickering over paperwork, Bokuto had grabbed Akaashi’s face between both of his hands and planted one right on Akaashi’s lips. To which, Akaashi responded with “not at the office.” The kiss hadn’t felt like how it was described in the movies. It was sloppy and they had bumped their noses together upon meeting. There weren’t any fireworks or sparks. It was a kiss of confirmation. It confirmed everything they had both shied away from for years. It was their first kiss together but it felt like something they had already shared many times throughout their lifetime. It was love; they had already had that for a long time. 

They had promptly gone to Bokuto’s apartment afterwards and confirmed their love for each other in every way. Following that ‘incident,’ they had never labeled what they were. They had a mutual understanding that they were meant to be, neither could deny it, but they had yet to make themselves official. They were co-owners of a large company and both were still too scared to officially cross any lines, to break what they had worked so hard to build. But since they had finally gotten a taste of what it's like to make love with someone you loved more than life itself, they couldn't get enough. They had used the last couple of months to make up for the years of touching they had both been holding themselves back from. Akaashi insisted on remaining professional (he had always been the more responsible one between the two), indicating that his only rule was that they couldn’t fuck in the office or on the weekdays. So, on the weekends, they made up for the weekday. It wasn’t as if they were fooling anybody. Anyone with eyes could see the way their post-meeting handshakes were gentler and lasted longer than anyone else’s in the office. Anyone would be able to pick out the way that their eyes twinkled with admiration when either one looked at each other. A love that strong would never be able to be hidden behind a professional mask. But, they weren’t shying away from making it official from anyone but themselves. Although, they didn’t have to label their relationship, because it wouldn’t change what they were.

Their souls were intertwined and no single word would ever be able to encompass the entirety of what they were. They were two halves of a whole. Together, they were complete. 

The driver had already exited the taxi and gotten their bags out of the trunk by the time Akaashi was able to shake Bokuto awake. After a couple of confused, groggy, words from Bokuto, Akaashi was able to pull Bokuto from his deep sleep. 

Akaashi stepped out of the cab car and closed the door behind him, wincing at the squeak of the hinges as the metal slammed shut. He stared wordlessly at the cabin that sat at the end of the driveway ahead of him. Located at the end of a long, dirt road, in the middle of a sea of trees, the large log cabin looked intensely out of place. The sun was setting behind the building, making it hard to see the details of the front of the structure. The darkness that was homing around the area made a familiar apprehension claw up Akaashi’s throat. He swallowed the feeling as the wind eerily whispered at the trees, making them answer back with a rustling of their leaves. Akaashi peered at the tops of the trees as the wind picked up a little, making the tops of the trees sway together. Akaashi’s dark, curly hair flitted across his forehead with the bitter wind, as he careend his neck towards the sky. Over the towering trees he saw dark gray, looming clouds taunt the little cabin from a distance. The storm would be rolling in soon. That thought left a nasty taste in Akaashi’s mouth. 

He felt a gentle touch at his shoulder and looked over to see Bokuto holding their bags and a smile. 

Akaashi always felt that he was lucky to know someone that smiled the way Bokuto did. He thought Bokuto could get anywhere in life with that smile. It was all he needed. It was all Akaashi needed too. 

Akaashi drew in a breath through his nose and started making the rest of the way up the dirt driveway, to the entrance of the cabin. Each step emitted a disturbing crunch from the pebbles and dirt. The entrance of the cabin had a large, outside, elevated deck, with five wooden steps to the top. Akaashi didn’t like the way the third steep creaked as they stood on it. Maybe Akaashi was being too cautious or maybe it was because he was still apprehensive towards the entire situation with Oikawa, but to him the creak in the step sounded like a scream; it sounded like a warning. 

Akaashi stared at his reflection that shone back at him on the glass doors of the front entrance. He heard as Bokuto rapped on the door. Akaashi jumped as a short, stocky woman clad in an all-white cleaning uniform, stepped into view from behind the glass. Her appearance made Akaashi’s reflection disappear into the glass. She quickly opened the door and welcomed the two to the cabin. She held one of her arms folded behind her back and unease swirled in Akaashi’s stomach. Akaashi was barely listening to the woman explain the historical nonsense of the log cabin, and more focused on the way that her left hand had yet to come into view from behind her back. Akaashi wanted to jump when her hand finally whipped from behind her and showed what she was holding. Her hand was gripped tightly around a black plastic handle, that led to a laptop-sized, cream colored metal box with a distinct red combination lock on it. Akaashi peered back into the woman’s dark eyes and began actually listening to what she was saying.

“-and this is where you will be keeping your electronics. It is my understanding that Mr. Oikawa had requested a technological detox package, correct?” The woman finished and she quickly put in the combination to the red lock that unlocked the box.

Akaashi tried to see what numbers the woman had put into the combination lock, just to be safe but he only saw the first three numbers out of the four she entered.  _ 384 _ . Led by the unease of the situation, Akaashi decided to pocket that information somewhere in the back of his mind. 

Bokuto confirmed the woman's speculation and began digging out all his devices. He had only brought a tablet to mess with on the long ride (which he played around with for about twenty minutes before he knocked out) and his telephone. One he had placed his belongings in the box, he motioned for Akaashi to do the same. As he placed his phone in the box, Akaashi felt the cold metal brush his fingertips. That coldness transferred to his veins and only added to his unease as the woman clicked the box closed. She explained that dinner was already on the table waiting for them, that Oikawa would be arriving early the next morning, and that if they needed any assistance, the staff would be in the small building in the backyard of the cabin but other than that, they were free to enjoy the rest of the night on their own.

The woman bowed then made her way out the back door, which you could see from where they were standing in the front entranceway. When the back glass door slid closed, Akaashi took the opportunity to look around. The cabin was simple. It was a small, two story building with three bedrooms and two large bathrooms. The main floor had an open floor plan, and you could see everything in the house from the living room, as well as a lot of viewing opportunities of the outside because of the various large windows that were littering the walls. As Akaashi made his way upstairs he studied the different bedrooms before claiming the one he liked best as his own. It had more large windows, its own bathroom, and was likely the master suite of the residence. He laid his belongings on the bed, which was decorated nicely in a large, white and clean comforter. He then stepped closer to one of the huge windows in his room and peered out at the endless stretch of treetops that were illuminated by the light of the cabin. Dusk had fully arrived. Akaashi defocused his gaze from the trees and focused it back to the couple of water droplets that had landed on the window pane. It had started to rain. A loud clap of thunder persisted that the storm had definitely arrived.

Akaashi heard Bokuto’s voice calling him back downstairs; the sound of his voice easily drowned out the monstrous thunder. Akaashi followed Bokuto’s voice, down the creaky wooden steps, and to the small, round, wooden dinner table. Two plates were set with covers on top of them, along with two sets of silverware, two glasses of water, two empty wine bottles, and a bottle of  _ Antinori Tignanello _ red wine. A candle was lit and flickering on the middle of the table, the orange glow illuminating Bokuto features, who was already sitting down. Akaashi sat down. They both said their thanks for the meal before they lifted the cover off of their plates, which invited a warm steam to rise over both of their faced.The steam cleared quickly, revealing a pasta of some kind. It had a couple of seared shrimp and colorful peppers mixed in with a creamy-looking white sauce. Akaashi figured it would pair well with the complex taste of the red wine, which he was itching to pop open. Akaashi reached for the bottle before he reached for his fork, making Bokuto chuckle and mumble a joke about Akaashi’s drinking habits. Akaashi just wanted something that would settle the anxiety that had made home in Akaashi’s stomach. 

“So… We have the place to ourselves for the night, huh?” Bokuto remarked with a suggestive tone and an eyebrow that flicked up and down on his forehead. Bokuto leaned back in his seat as he twirled his pasta with his fork.

“I guess we do, Bokuto-san.” Akaashis lips twitched upward after he swallowed a little of his wine.

“Hey, hey! No fair! Don’t call me ‘ _ Bokuto-san,’  _ here, _ ”  _ Bokuto’s voice became more mellowed out as he attempted to mimic Akaashi’s tone. “you said not on the  _ weekdays  _ or at the  _ office  _ but  _ technically _ speaking here, it is a Saturday, and  _ technically _ we aren’t at the office!” He whined. 

“I guess you’re right,” Akaashi paused and waited until he saw Bokuto’s bottom lip jut out in a pout and he added “ _ Koutarou _ .”

Bokuto grinned and began scarfing down the rest of his pasta. By the time they had finished eating, and because of the light and easy conversing, Akaashi was only able to finish one glass of wine. He looked at the rest of the bottle as they were cleaning up after dinner, deciding he would finish it after spending some time with Bokuto, and stored it safely away for later consumption. He made sure to clean the rest of the mess that he and Bokuto had made, because Bokuto was doing far too hasty of a job. 

They made their way back into Akaashi’s chosen bedroom, because it was the larger of the two, and shut the door for safe measures. Bokuto wasted no time putting his hands on Akaashi’s hips and pushing him to the back of the door. Bokuto’s grip was firm on Akaashi’s hips and Akaashi felt an excitement run through him because of the roughness of Bokuto’s touch. The feeling of Bokuto’s lips against his own was far more intoxicating than the entire bottle of red wine that was waiting for Akaashi downstairs. His lips were warm, wet and they eventually made their way down to Akaashi’s neck. Akaashi moaned loudly and lifted his chin up to give Bokuto more access. Akaashi was especially sensitive here, and Bokuto knew this. Bokuto grinned at the response he was getting from Akaashi and as he pushed his thigh between Akaashi’s legs, Akaashi groaned louder when he came in contact with the hardness that was there. Akaashi let his handles travel up between their bodies and made quick work undoing the knot of the black that was laced around Bokuto’s collar, then he briskly undid the cold, plastic buttons of Bokuto’s white dress shirt. Once the shirt's buttons were undone, Akaashi let his hands explore the hard planes of chest and stomach muscle that he had become very familiar with over the past couple of months. Akaashi ran his hands up and down every rivet and groove of Bokuto’s abs, gasping a couple times when Bokuto would lick, bite, or suck on an extra sensitive part of his neck. Bokuto quickly decided that standing up against this door kissing Akaashi, while it was everything he wanted, he decided he  _ needed  _ more. Bokuto bent his knees slightly, and allowed his hands to trace Akaashi’s backside, until they found a spot on the back of Akaashi’s thighs. Bokuto squeezed tightly, and Akaashi understood the message, quickly jumping up and wrapping his arms and legs around Bokuto. Both men hissed as their cores came into contact with each other. Akaashi let his head fall back slightly as Bokuto still worked his lips around Akaashi’s neck. Bokuto turned around and expertly walked towards the bed. As his legs made contact with the frame, he stepped on the bed with his knees and laid Akaashi down in the middle of the white comforter, narrowly messing the luggage that Akaashi had placed there earlier. Bokuto moved it out of the way, placing it safely on the floor, before sliding his arms out of his shirt the rest of the way, letting that fall to the floor too. Akaashi drank in the sight of Bokuto’s arms, and sat up on his knees, unbuttoning his own dress shirt as well. Soon enough, through enough teasing kisses, both men were clad in only their boxers. 

Through the process of undressing, the tone of their kisses changed. Instead of the previous, roughness and franticness, a more gentle and deliberate touch pursued. Each kiss was tantalizing, and each caress was slow and enticing. 

Akaashi was very aware of the tone shift. He knew that this meant that tonight he would not be getting fucked, no, tonight he and Bokuto would make love. He had no qualms to either side, and maybe just maybe, as fun as the first option could be, he preferred this gentler side of Bokuto. This side was the side that said a thousand unsaid words, through  _ action. _ Each kiss was an “ _ I love you _ ,” and each slow grazing of his hand was a sweet nothing. It was everything the two wanted to say to each other, but they were both far too reluctant.

Akaashi believed that he would never get enough of the feeling of Bokuto’s body being over him like this, using his elbows so that he won’t crush Akaashi, touching him, feeling him, being with him. It was  _ everything.  _ Bokuto’s gentle hand made its way down to the edge of Akaashi’s boxers. He pulled the elastic back slowly and let it go, causing it to snap back on Akaashi’s skin. Akaashi let out a gasp, already feeling entirely oversensitive. 

Bokuto sugared kisses down Akaashi’s stomach and it felt like warm honey was pooling inside of him, replacing the anxiety that had once set up camp. 

Each kiss was unhurried and deliberate, making sure that Akaashi felt every second where Bokuto’s lips met Akaashi’s skin. As Bokuto kissed the stretch of skin between Akaashi’s belly button and the waistband of his boxers, Akaashi felt the flush that had settled on his face and ears bloom all the way down his chest. 

As the intimacy went on, Bokuto made sure that every movement from his part was agonizingly, yet deliciously, slow. Each time their lips met, their souls mingled together more, twisting and tethering together, each individual strand of each other spirit becoming lost in each other more so than they already had.

As they finished together, Akaashi felt need with the utmost urgency to scream out,

_ I love you, I love you, I love you. _

He wanted to shout it from the top of his lungs, scream it from the bottom of his heart, tell it with every  _ fiber  _ of being in his body. But the cat of apprehension held his tongue with its sharp claws and shoved the words back down Akaashi’s throat, where they would stay. Where they  _ should _ stay. 

Bokuto held on to Akaashi for ten long, love-lingering minutes of silent basking in the aftermath of their previous fit of passion. Neither spoke, but with their blended souls and arms mingled with one another, they both knew exactly what the other was thinking. 

_ I love you, I love you, I love you. _

Akaashi was the first to move (he always was), grabbing damp and dry hand towels from the bathroom and tenderly freeing his and Bokuto’s skin from any evidence of love they may have left on each other. Sweat, fluids, and a couple of tears rested on their skin. There were always a couple tears that slipped from either party’s eyes . When their devotion to each other was that strong, yet they were being held back in the way that they were, moments like this were a freefall of emotions. They didn’t judge each other when they saw the tears pool in each other’s eyes, nor when the saltiness slipped from over their eyelashes and inched down their cheeks. Instead Bokuto kissed Akaashi’s tears away and Akaashi would use the pad of his thumb to rub the offending tears off. They let the true meaning of the tears evaporate alongside the tears themselves. 

They showered and got ready for bed together. Because Bokuto swore that he would be up and out of Akaashi’s room by the time Oikawa arrived the next morning, they laid together in bed that night. They held each other tightly, both dreading the next moment where they would have to let go. The rainfall outside remained as steady as their love for one another. 

They fell asleep with their limbs and souls still tangled together and the same thought on each other's minds.

_ I love you, I love you, I love you.  _

They fell into a dreamless slumber because not even the result of the wildest of imaginations could compare to the dream of a person that they were laying next to. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Akaashi awoke to a rough shaking and an ear-splitting beeping noise, only an hour or two after he had fallen asleep. The shaking was quickly identified as being Bokuto’s but the high-pitched beeping noise was indubitably harder to place. The noise came in spouts of three. Three loud  _ beeps _ , then a pause. Three loud  _ beeps _ , then a pause. As Akaashi’s eyes shot open and met Bokuto’s frantic ones, the beeping was replaced with a woman’s voice. 

“ _ Attention guests, an intruder has been identified as trespassing onto the property. The intruder is to be considered armed and dangerous. For your safety, please remain in your room. We are in the process of notifying the proper authorities. I repeat-” _

Akaashi quickly tuned out the voice that was coming across the intercom as a wave of fear rippled throughout his body, filling him with the same previous anxiety that had dissipated earlier. He quickly grabbed a hold of Bokuto’s wrist, still unsure of what was happening but confident that being connected to Bokuto in any way would bring him a sense of comfort. 

His body began to tremble, matching the motion of the waves of fear that rolled through him. Bokuto wrapped his arms around Akaashi’s shoulders as they sat up in bed. Bokuto whispered comforts into Akaashi’s ears as Akaashi’s mouth began spewing questions that prodded at the unknown. The incessant noise of the intercom remained uninterrupted for a while. 

_ BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.  _

Then a pause.

_ BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.  _

Then a pause. 

Akaashi doesn’t know for how many perpetual minutes the silence-penetrating beeping went on for but eventually, it was cut off with an awful screeching noise, similar to that of a scratched record. The awful noise  _ immediately _ made Akaashi miss the continuous and annoying, high-pitched beeps. 

Both Bokuto and Akaashi turned to each other with shaky breaths. Their faces were being illuminated by the pale white moonlight that shone through the windows. Akaashi felt his entire body shake with jitters. 

Everything felt surreal and as he looked into the eyes of his one source of comfort, he felt more dread run through his veins as he saw the worry that danced around Bokuto’s golden irises. Akaashi’s shoulders shook hard. 

“Wh-,” Akaashi swallowed hard to try to make his voice sound less feeble. “What do we d-do?”

And when the man who  _ always _ had an answer to everything responded with “I don’t know,” Akaashi’s horror doubled. 

Bokuto slowly sat up on the bed, fearful that even a small squeak of rusty bedsprings might alarm whoever may be out there. He got on all fours and crawled to the window, and peered just over the edge for an instant before plunging his head back behind the view of the window and behind the safety of a wall and then whipping his head to face Akaashi. A flash of lightning struck mightily outside, in mediation with the steady storm, and illuminated the room for half a second, just long enough for the bright blue to wrap around Bokuto’s face and irradiate the pale look of ghastliness that had fallen upon Bokuto’s features. Akaashi immediately followed suit, crawling after Bokuto’s positioning near the window, to examine what exactly made Bokuto’s face fall in the way it had. As he made his way there, Akaashi cringed in the way his bare knees and palms argued with the strands of rough carpet fibers. Akaashi let his pale fingertips ghost the edge of the window sill, before gripping it firmly and peeking his head over the edge of the wall and peering into the glass of the window. Through the torrents of rain and aided by the orange-hue-emitting lanterns that decorated the outside of the building, Akaashi saw the outline of it. Akaashi saw the outline of  _ her.  _ Another flare of blue lightning coruscated the scene, and confirmed the image. Akaashi feared that this image, should he survive this entire ordeal, would be one that would be burned into his memory for the rest of his lifetime. Laying face down in the middle of the yard, was the same short, stocky build of the cabin worker they had spoken to earlier. A murky puddle of rainwater congregated around her lifeless body and even from the second story bedroom, even through the dense rainfall, Akaashi could clearly see that her white uniform was no longer white. A deep, dark crimson, the color confirmation aided by the flash of blinding lightning, had entirely engulfed the white uniform, so much so that if Akaashi had not seen earlier that the uniform was  _ supposed _ to be white, he would have assumed that it was meant to be the murky red color.  _ Blood. _

_ “The intruder is to be considered armed and dangerous.”  _ The intercom voice from earlier rang through Akaashi’s mind like a recurring nightmare. 

Akaashi’s grip on the window sill stiffened before going completely numb. He turned and slid against the wall, making sure that his head was protected from the view of the window, eyes unblinking and wide. His and Bokuto’s shaky, uneven breaths, mingled with the sounds of rain hitting the roof, and the occasional clap of thunder. They both tried to process whatever was happening. They tried to wrap their minds around it but, they were grasping for answers that were hidden in a dark, perpetual cave. No matter how hard they racked their brains, they came up dry, in stark contrast with the torrential downpour of the storm that taunted them outside. 

“I don’t want to die, Kou,” Akaashi pleaded, his trembling voice barely rising above the sounds of the raging weather. 

“You won’t, I won’t let you.” Bokuto was quick to attempt to dissipate Akaashi’s worry.

He sounded so sure of that. He sounded so sure that he would be able to protect Akaashi no matter what or who they were facing. Even though there was no way that Bokuto could be absolutely sure that Akaashi would survive, Akaashi luxuriated in the secureness in Bokuto’s tone and hoped that he was right. He hoped that both of them could survive. 

The newfound goal of keeping Akaashi safe seemed to light a fire within Bokuto. He scooted a far enough distance from the window, so that he would be able to stand without being seen from the window. He began digging through Akaashi’s backpack that had been previously thrown on the floor, ripping through his clothes and throwing items he deemed unimportant away from the mess he was creating. Akaashi sat, still shaking against the wall in shock, vaguely aware of the items that Bokuto was gathering. Akaashi wasn’t aware that Bokuto was speaking until he saw Bokuto’s lips moving and heard Bokuto calling his name, yet it sounded like Bokuto was very far away. A couple of hard blinks placed Bokuto’s voice back in front of Akaaashi and he inhaled a sharp breath through his nose after he felt the ache that was burning in his lungs. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath. Everything was happening so fast,  _ too  _ fast. Akaashi wouldn’t be surprised that if at any minute, he woke up from this nightmare. It couldn’t possibly be real. What had him and Bokuto done wrong that put them in this cursed position?

_ Him and Bokuto.  _

Akaashi’s senses flew into overdrive once he came to the realization that  _ if _ they were to die, there would never be a ‘ _ him and Bokuto.’ _ The blood that had previously vanished from his pale face rushed back up to his head with an inaudible buzz as he realized that he wanted, no he  _ needed  _ to love this man openly. He  _ needed  _ to  _ marry _ him. And Akaashi would be damned if  _ anyone _ thought they could take that away from him. They would survive this. Akaashi never thought titling their relationship mattered until it became the sole reason he wanted to fight whoever or  _ whatever  _ this was and survive, so that the two lovers could become completely unified, under one term, wholly  _ together _ .

Akaashi scrambled on the rough carpet, back towards Bokuto, who had taken Akaashi’s backpack and unpacked it, then refilled it with items he had found necessary, for  _ whatever _ Bokuto was planning. Bokuto, in his hurry, glanced at a black hoodie, that he had previously discarded on the ground, for half a second, before picking it up and shoving it near Akaashi’s chest. Akaashi let the fabric dangle loosely in his grip and he stared with an open mouth and wide-eyes at Bokuto.

“Put it on. We gotta get to that building in the backyard, we gotta assume that the authorities were never contacted. We gotta get either  _ our _ phones or use whatever they got in there.” Bokuto explained haphazardly, and although he tried his best to sound stoic, there was still a subtle tremor in his voice that Akaashi picked up on and it shook Akaashi to his core. 

Akaashi nodded and quickly slipped his arms through the dark cotton, putting on the hoodie and adjusting it slightly so that it wasn’t so tight around his neck. He remembered the numbers he had stored in the back of his brain after his earlier encounter with the woman.

“3-8-4.” Akaashi managed to say. 

  
  


He glanced over at the window and as another bold flash of lighting lit up the room, Akaashi’s mind flashed with the image of the crimson-colored cabin worker laying face down in the dirt. He silently thanked the woman for the information he had stolen from her. He looked away from the window and down at his feet. He felt his knees shutter, barely holding his body up. Akaashi hated how real this felt. He wanted to throw up but, he couldn’t indulge in the weakness because he had to fight. He had to survive.  _ They  _ had to survive. 

Through the darkness, he caught Bokuto’s eyebrow quirk up. 

“3-8-4.” Akaashi repeated with a quiver in his voice. “Th-those are the first three numbers to the combination of the box. The b-box where  _ she _ locked our phones.” 

Bokuto must have noticed Akaashi’s feebleness, because he used his hands to capture Akaashi’s face between his grip. His rough hands, even with the distinguishable quiver in them, felt gentle and reassuring. 

“Hey, look at me.” And so Akaashi looked at him. “I’m so glad you remembered that, it’ll really help us.” Even through the thick evil tension that lurked through the air, Bokuto smiled a smile that cut straight through it, like butter. The smile that was supposed to get him anywhere in life. “You’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

If only Bokuto understood that Akaashi was worried just as much, if not  _ more _ about whether or not  _ Bokuto _ was going to be okay, not just himself. 

Akaashi wasted no time (because it wasn’t a given that they’d ever have the time again) in pressing his lips against Bokuto’s.

And while, each and everyone of their kisses had held a thousand unsaid words, Akaashi felt like this one had held a  _ million.  _ It had a more complex flavour than the faciest of wines that Akaashi had ever tasted in his lifetime. It held notes of sweetness, notes of meaning, and if Akaashi wasn’t mistaken, he could swear he could  _ feel _ , more than he could  _ taste _ , a note of bitterness. A note of  _ goodbye _ . But Akaashi wasn’t allowed the time to delve into the intricacy of the flavors of this kiss because the next flash of lightning hit simultaneously with a heart-dropping shatter of glass that exploded into the air and just inches over their heads, a blur whizzed passed them and landed at the wall opposite of the window it had shattered. The sound of rainfall became intensely louder, now that it had an opened window to seep through, because the glass was no longer mediating the sounds of the storm. 

_ An arrow? _

Through the darkness of the room, an arrow with a distinct light blue feather was seen, although the feather was rather wet and floppy due to the rain, instead of flowy as it should have been, and was stuck in the wood of the wall, with such force that it caused cracks in the wood that fanned out from the center of the impact, like a sinuous spider web. 

Bokuto and Akaashi very quickly dropped to the ground rather than attempting to see who or  _ what  _ the arrow had come from, and immediately Akaashi’s bodily shudders became far more jerky and uncontrollable as his mind tried to supply the answer to that question.

Bokuto reached up and grabbed the backpack that was lying on top of the bed, zipped it up, and slipped it on his back. He began crawling, towards the entrance of the bedroom, and in any other situation Akaashi might have thought Bokuto looked ridiculous to be on all fours, still sporting his bedroom attire, but a thought so innocent could not find its way into Akaashi’s mind at a time like this.

He followed Bokuto on all fours, trying to focus on the burn of his palms and knees against the plasticy feeling carpet fibers rather than the constant convulsions that were racking his body. Bokuto opened the door of the bedroom and peered out into the darkness of the hallway. Seeing nothing, he made his way out into the hallway and Akaashi followed suit. 

There was not a single word in the universe that could amount to the fear that had built up inside Akaashi. It was tingling in his toes, running through his veins, and spewing out of every pour that existed on his skin. His heart was pumping with fear and adrenaline rather than blood. The hallway replaced the burn of carpet on his palms and knees with a chilling, wooden tile that very quickly began to hurt worse than the previously felt fibers, due to the lack of cushion it provided. They were both still too scared to stand and walk because they had no clue where the intruder was on the outside of the property and every wall in this cabin was decorated with more sizable windows than either could count. In any other situation, they might have appreciated the beauty of architecture that the mingling of glass and log created, pleasing to the eye and beautiful undoubtedly but, in this situation, indubitably they both wished they were vacationing in a four foot thick concrete box.

Akaashi watched as Bokuto’s steady pace stuttered as he reached the top of the stairs. The stairs were going to be difficult to get passed; it was probably the most vulnerable spot in the entire cabin. With windows that overlooked the grand-style spiral staircase, Akaashi felt sick to his stomach as he contemplated over how he and Bokuto might pass this barrier. He wasn’t even sure if he  _ wanted _ to go downstairs because if they went downstairs, then they would be on the same ground level as the evil that lurked outside. Bokuto seemed to conjure a plan much faster than Akaashi could have because with the intake of one deep breath that attempted to ease his nerves, he shot straight up and ran down the dark, spiral staircase. Akaashi barely had time to become aware of Bokuto’s actions because his body was moving on its own, following Bokuto’s path with the same vigor that Bokuto had presented. He dove behind the same couch that Bokuto was ducking behind, allowing his shaky lungs to suck in all the oxygen he dared. His heart was beating out of his chest at that point, so loudly that, if not for the sounds of heavy rainfall covering their tracks, Akaashi might have feared that the intruder might have heard him. 

They looked around the dark living room. The sound of rain was still hushed, meaning that the intruder had not broken any windows or opened any doors on this floor. 

_ Yet.  _

Akaashi looked for Bokuto’s eyes in the darkness, hoping to find that familiar sense of security. Akaashi felt it rush through him the moment they locked eyes but, the moment was gone too soon when Bokuto opened his mouth. 

“We need to know where they are at. Back there, they had the advantage. They already knew which room we were in and the general location we were standing. Assuming they don’t  _ already  _ know that we are down here, we need to find them first.” Bokuto delineated slowly, making sure Akaashi heard every word. 

“O-okay.” Akaashi hated the way he stuttered through the single word. 

He wished he could snap himself together. Back home, him and Bokuto would always watch action movies and he remembers very clearly how he would scoff at and ridicule the weaker characters for their choices, like they _chose_ to be weak. He would picture what he would do if he were in that character's situation. _Obviously,_ he would just beat up the bad guy and _obviously_ he would just be strong, but here Akaashi was in a situation not unlike those of the action movies him and Bokuto used to watch, not even able to say a single word without stuttering. And there Bokuto was, as the main character. Planning, being the first to act, everything Akaashi thought he would be. But it made sense, Bokuto was a leader in every way and while he could handle the fear, Akaashi couldn’t. The fear wrapped its long fingers around Akaashi’s throat and _squeezed_ , so much so that Akaashi’s mind was going numb from the lack of oxygen, no matter how many sharp breaths he inhaled. 

And Bokuto began to lead again, telling Akaashi to stay where he was while he went and tried to find the intruder. Akaashi wanted to scream out “ _ no”  _ and “ _ don’t do this on your own,”  _ but the words were stuck in his throat, lying alongside a panic smothered so thick in his throat, he was finding it hard to breathe. Akaashi could see an old, grandfather clock from where he was sitting, squished up behind the couch. It was too dark to see exactly what time it was, but the ticking was loud enough to hear even over the heavy rainfall that had yet to cease. Each tick rang out, reminding Akaashi of the passing time. The time that he could have spent searching for the intruder, helping Bokuto, yet he was sitting there doing nothing, choked up in the trepidation of the unknown.

Each tick of that grandfather clock ridiculed Akaashi.

_ Tick.  _

Coward.

_ Tick.  _

Coward. 

Akaashi felt his hand inch towards the cold, tiled floor, preparing to push himself off the floor, to do  _ something,  _ but just as the joints in his knees made a  _ pop _ from bending, after he had mustered up the courage to stand, Bokuto appeared back in his line of sight.

A  _ moment  _ passed, just a half a  _ second _ , where they stared at each other, where they made eye contact that confirmed that each of them were okay. 

_ Tick. _

Coward. 

“We’ve gotta go now, he’s out front. Now’s our only chance.” Bokuto didn’t even attempt to whisper. It seemed as if the wind had picked up outside, giving them a chance to mask the noise of regular talking that the rain by itself might not have concealed. “He’s got a  _ crossbow _ .” 

_ ‘He.’  _ So, the intruder was a man.

_ The arrow.  _

Akaashi allowed himself to pull one last deep inhale from the air, hoping to displace the fear in his body through the form of carbon dioxide and pluck any ounce of bravery that might be hidden and interlaced within the oxygen molecules. He allowed himself to stand fully, following behind Bokuto’s quickened pace towards the back door. 

Once they opened it, they would be in the domain of that man.

As Bokuto’s trembling hand reached for the golden knob of the glass door, Akaashi stopped him.

“Wait.” And so Bokuto waited.

He didn’t let Bokuto get the chance to question anything, because Akaashi did a quick once over of the windows surrounding the area, looking to make sure no man carrying a crossbow was in sight, and then he dashed towards the kitchen, opening and scrambling through a couple of drawers, before finding his target. He picked it up, pulling out the sharpest knife he could find. It was about the size of an index card and although it was small, it was the biggest out of all the knives in the drawer. He weighed the weapon in his hand. The rubber grip of the knife squished below the iron clutch Akaashi maintained on the weapon. He poked the end of the knife with the index finger on his other hand, but pulled away when the tip of the knife effortlessly cut a break in Akaashi’s skin. The now all-too-familiar crimson color that bled through forced a sickness to bubble within Akaashi’s stomach. Akaashi had doubts that the knife would do any harm against someone who had a fucking  _ crossbow _ but at least it was sharp. At least it was  _ something _ . 

Akaashi raced back to Bokuto who had side stepped from the view of the glass door, just in case, hidden away from view because of the wall. Akaashi flashed the silver metal of the knife at Bokuto who nodded in understanding. Akaashi put the knife in the pocket of his hoodie.

Bokuto reached for the golden knob of the glass door again, and he unlocked it before turning it, and pushing the door open. 

Water from the sky that had previously been hammering against the door immediately began making its way in, and they were getting soaked even though they had yet to step outside. The sound of the savage storm bellowed out and seeped into Akaashi’s ears. Its song of fury was far more taunting and honest than the grandfather clock’s mocking ticks. 

Bokuto began moving swiftly, stepping out into the storm, surrendering to its song, and sprinting toward the building that could possibly hold their phones. 

Everything around them was haphazardly mixed in with the dangerous unknown. They didn’t know the area. They didn’t know about the storm. They didn’t know the real reason they were here. They didn’t know why Oikawa had originally called to propose a collaboration. They didn’t know who was attacking them. They didn’t even know if their fucking phones were going to be in the building that they were full on sprinting towards like it was their one and only saving grace. 

_ They didn’t know.  _

They didn’t know that the man had spotted them, after turning a corner of the cabin. 

They didn't know that the man had wielded his crossbow and taken Bokuto’s figure in between the crosshairs of his scope. 

They didn’t know that the man had pulled the trigger. 

_ They didn’t know. _

The arrow whizzed through the rain, collecting rainwater in its feather. Had a picture been painted of the arrow stilled in time, frozen with the rain drops, with the light blue feather trailing behind it, it _would_ have been breathtakingly _beautiful._ The stark contrast of the airiness of the feather with the intense, heaviness behind the connotation of the arrow, of the _weapon,_ _would_ have been stunning. The striking disparity between the bright, light blue color of the feather and the darkness of the stormy night _would_ have been extraordinary, had it been a picture. 

_ But _ . 

It  _ wasn’t  _ a picture that was painted. 

It  _ wasn’t  _ frozen in time. 

It  _ wasn’t  _ still. 

It whistled through the air and found its target, shoving itself in Bokuto’s right thigh, just as they had reached the door of the security building.

The brilliant blue of the feather was quickly replaced by that haunting crimson. 

Akaashi felt his entire world come crashing down around him, much like the water from the sky that had been crashing to the ground relentlessly that entire night, as he heard Bokuto’s cry of pain. His own shout of pain followed quickly after, as he watched his lover crumple to the ground, clutching his thigh. Bokuto and Akaashi’s souls were interconnected so severely that Akaashi felt everything that Bokuto, his other half felt, if not worse. Seeing the one he loved so deeply, in excruciating pain, inflicted a pain upon his heart tenfold. 

He hadn’t even been aware that he was moving, swinging open the door, dragging Bokuto by his outstretched arms, inside the small, dimly lit security building. He slammed the door shut, twisting the lock, through blurry vision. Akaashi wasn’t sure if it was rainwater that filled his eyes and clouded his vision, or tears. He wasn’t sure if he was shivering so hard because of the coldness of the rain or because of the distress that racked his body as he saw the way Bokuto sat up against the creme colored wall near the front door, with an arrow halfway through his thigh and that ugly fucking  _ crimson  _ color collecting around where he sat on the floor. Akaashi dropped to the floor, kneeling to Bokuto’s eye level. 

“You okay, ‘Kaashi?” Bokuto coughed and winced at the throbbing wave of pain that shot through his body because the cough had caused the arrow to shift. 

Akaashi wondered how Bokuto could possibly be asking a question as _stupid_ as that when he had a fucking _arrow_ sticking out of in his leg.

“Kou, p-please…” Akaashi’s hot tears slid past his eyes and down his cheeks, displacing the chill on his face from the freezing rainwater. 

Akaashi grabbed Bokuto’s face in between his hands, the way Bokuto had done to him many times before. 

“ _ Keiji _ , so beautiful. Always so beautiful.” Bokuto smiled that smile that should have been able to get him anywhere in life. 

No. That smile  _ is _ going to get him anywhere he wants in life. His life isn’t over; it couldn’t be until that smile took him to the moon, to the stars, until it took him  _ wherever  _ he wanted. He’s going to live. Akaashi  _ needed _ him to live. He needed him to live, so they could get married. So they could scream ‘ _ I love you _ ’ from the top of their lungs at each other. So they could scream ‘ _ I love you’  _ from the bottom of their hearts at each other. So they could scream ‘ _ I love you’  _ with every fiber of being in their bodies at each other. 

Akaashi pulled Bokuto’s shoulders forward off the wall, wincing at the groan Bokuto responded with, but just enough so that he could grab the backpack off of Bokuto that he had been carrying around on his back. He didn’t know what Bokuto had put in there but, he at least hoped there was some kind of fabric so that he could provide a simple wrap to Bokuto’s wound. He unzipped the backpack with a newfound determination and Bokuto sat silently against the wall. 

He unzipped the backpack and saw that it was empty other than containing what he recognized to be Bokuto’s wallet. Akaashi wanted to drop the bag and scream out. He pulled the wallet out of the bag and stared at it. What the  _ fuck. _

“Kou, why? Where’s all… where's the stuff?” Akaashi felt exasperated and utterly useless. Maybe if he had helped Bokuto pack the bag instead of sitting idly against the wall back there, maybe they’d have made away with more than just Bokuto’s  _ wallet. _

Bokuto didn’t speak and instead, reached out and grabbed his wallet from Akaashi’s trembling hands, with shaky hands himself. 

He flipped open his wallet and offered a weak, but fond smile at the contents that met his eyes.He turned it around to show Akaashi. Akaashi saw himself staring back at him. A picture of himself in Bokuto’s wallet. An old picture. Akaashi remembered it as being the portrait of him from his senior year of high school. From  _ years  _ ago.

“So beautiful, Keiji.  _ Always  _ so beautiful.” Bokuto smiled and it looked impossibly weak, turning the wallet back over in his hands. “Sorry, just wanted to bring a picture of you with me. Didn’t want ya to fall outta my pocket. Having you here, it always made me brave.” 

Akaashi wanted to scream, he wanted to shout, but the painful love that seeped out of his eyes made it hard to do anything but stare in pure unfiltered adoration. He wasn’t going to give up yet, and it sure as hell sounded like Bokuto was already saying goodbye. 

He suddenly remembered something.

He reached back for the backpack that had fallen from his hands, and went for the front zipper. 

Before they had left for the cab that had picked them up, Akaashi remembered that he ran back upstairs and stuffed an extra pair of underwear in the front pocket of his backpack, because Bokuto  _ always  _ forgot to bring underwear when they went on trips. He pulled out the cloth from the pocket and he’d never thought he’d be so happy to see a pair of underwear before. He used the knife that he had tucked in his hoodie pocket earlier to cut the cloth into a long strip, preparing to use it as a wrap. Bokuto was being uncharacteristically quiet so Akaashi caught his eyes with his own. Akaashi tried not to let his eyes waver when he saw the paleness that had taken over Bokuto’s face and the blueness that had tinted his lips.

The look they shared told Bokuto to  _ hold on _ and Bokuto responded with a look that said  _ anything for you. _

It's exactly what he would say, had he had the strength to speak, and Akaashi could almost  _ hear _ Bokuto's voice ring in his head with the exact inflection he would have used as he said it. 

“It's gonna hurt, kay?” He warned Bokuto to prepare just as much as he was warning himself to prepare. Bokuto nodded, gaze not wavering from Akaashi.

Akaashi grabbed the stick of the arrow, feeling nauseous as the blue-turned-crimson feather tickled the edge of his hand. He used his other hands to brace the edge of Bokuto’s thigh and use it as leverage to pull. Akaashi knew that usually, you weren’t supposed to pull out the object you were impaled with but, Akaashi also knew that there was no way they would be able to fight if Bokuto had a foot-long arrow sticking out of his leg. So after weighing the options once more in his head, Akaashi pulled the arrow out of Bokuto’s leg. The head of the arrow caught on the edge of Bokuto’s skin and Akaashi yanked hard once and a sickening  _ ripping  _ noise filled both of the men’s ears, along with the sounds of Bokuto grinding his teeth and the occasional groan of pain. Akaashi couldn't help but close his eyes as he began tightly wrapping the cloth from the underwear around Bokuto’s thigh. The sight of his human flesh made Akaashi feel sick.

After he finished wrapping Bokuto’s thigh, Akaashi turned to the side and threw up the contents of his stomach, which very vaguely resembled a mixture of creamy-white pasta sauce and red wine. 

“You did so good. Thank you, Keiji.” Bokuto smiled his weak smile and Akaashi did his best to return it.

“We aren’t done yet,” Akaashi said grimly, glancing at the front door. 

He helped stand up with a substantial amount of effort. With their sopping wet clothes and slow movements, they slowly made their way to a bathroom. Akaashi sat Bokuto on the lid of the closed toilet seat. Akaashi told Bokuto to stay and paused before leaving the bathroom, the words he had been itching to say were caught in his throat once again. 

_ I love you, I love you, I love you.  _

Bokuto nodded. He knew. 

Akaashi decided that he would do this for them; he would win so that he would finally free the words that had been catching in his throat for far too long. 

Akaashi fiddled with the rubber grip of the knife as he made his way upstairs, towards what he hoped would be a room that held their phones. 

What Akaashi didn’t know he would find was Tooru Oikawa in a room, sat in an office chair, with his feet kicked up on a desk, facing an entire wall of computer monitors that held black and white security footage of places he recognized to be different areas of the cabin. There was a monitor that showed the kitchen, one that showed the living room, and Akaashi stopped dead in his tracks as he saw there was one that showed the  _ bedroom _ that him and Bokuto had slept in. 

Oikawa hadn’t heard Akaashi enter the room and Oikawa hadn’t yet turned around but Akaashi would recognize that floppy brunette hair and lanky figure anywhere. Akaashi’s jaw dropped and his eyes blinked hard until he put a story together in his head that made enough sense and gave Akaashi enough reason to do what he did next.

Akaashi didn’t know why or how, but he knew Oikawa was involved. 

So, he walked up behind Oikawa and in one motion, grabbed Oikawa’s floppy brown hair with one hand and placed the sharp edge of his knife just under Oikawa’s adam’s apple. Oikawa barely had the time to gasp by the time he realized someone had grabbed him. Akaashi pressed the edge of his knife into the pale, vulnerable skin of Oikawa’s neck, just enough to barely break the surface. Akaashi thought he hated the color, but he thought he quite liked the look of the crimson that trickled down Oikawa’s neck. 

“What the  _ fuck _ is going on, Oikawa.” Akaashi had hardly recognized that the voice that boomed through the room was his own, in the way it dripped with such authority and pure  _ venom. _

“Agha-” Akaashi hadn’t meant to press the knife harder into Oikawa’s neck harder, but he had, and it cut a little deeper through the surface of his skin. It wasn’t enough to do any major damage but Akaashi realized that he had to relinquish some of the pressure so that Oikawa would be able to talk. He did so with an annoyed huff and Oikawa gasped for breath. 

Akaashi repurposed the pressure he had eased up from the knife into his other hand, which still held a fistful of Oikawa’s fluffy brown hair. Akaashi gripped his hair harder, feeling a few pops run through his hand as he pulled some of Oikawa’s hair straight out of his scalp. Akaashi hadn’t been aware of this strength that he was showing right now but figured it had something to do with the way Bokuto’s pain was like gasoline being poured straight into the fire that was his adrenaline. Oikawa whimpered. 

“You guys didn’t give me any fucking choice!” Oikawa’s whiny voice rose in a way that Akaashi didn’t really appreciate, so he twisted the wrist that held Oikawa’s hair in a way that made a few more satisfying  _ pops _ come from hair that pulled from the follicles on his scalp. Oikawa groaned at the sensation before continuing. “Do you know how hard I work? Damn near double what both of you do, just to barely be on the same level. I’m only one man. There’s only so much I can fucking do and  _ no one _ wanted to or was able to keep up with me. You backed me into a damn corner! I had to get  _ rid  _ of you. Both of you. It was my only fucking chance, or else I was gonna drown.”

“Coward.” Akaashi borrowed the wise words from the grandfather clock to ridicule the pathetic man that trembled beneath him. “Who is that? Out there?”

“I can’t-” A harsh _yank_ of hair was met with a couple more _pops._ Oikawa was probably going to be bald by the time Akaashi was done with him, if he didn’t start acting right. “Okay! Okay! Hajime. Hajime Iwaizumi. I don’t even fucking _know_ the man, just some guy I hired from the _Yakuza-”_

“From the fucking WHAT?”

“The Yakuza! Listen, Keiji-”  _ Yank. “ _ OKAY! Akaashi,” Oikawa amended, “I didn’t know what else to do-”

“Call him off. Call your man off.” 

There was half a beat of almost silence, filled by the incessant rainpour and slight buzzing coming from the computer monitors that racked up the wall. 

“I can’t.” Oikawa shuddered. 

“You what?” The malice in Akaashi’s voice cut through the air. 

“There was some stupid ass contract. He’s got to either finish the job or die. And, he  _ won’t  _ die.” Oikawa pleaded desperately, his hands gripping the plastic armrests of the office chair so hard that his knuckles were turning white. 

Akaashi pulled back on Oikawa’s hair so that his neck was more exposed and so that he looked up at the ceiling. Akaashi moved to tower over him, so that he could maintain a cold, steel eye contact with him. He saw tears brimming in Oikawa’s brown eyes, maybe from the force that Akaashi was using to manhandle him, or maybe from the guilt of realizing what he had done. Either way, Akaashi found no room in his heart to find pity for the pathetic man that trembled in front of his eyes. 

“I used to respect you, you know? I always thought it was amazing how you were one man, doing the job that both me  _ and  _ Bokuto did together. Admired you for it, even, both of us did. But, now I realize that this whole time you were just searching for an out. You’re a coward, Oikawa. Disgusting.” Akaashi spoke slowly, with a distinct vindictiveness. “Pa-the-tic.” Akaashi enunciated each syllable of the last word so clearly that some spit escaped from his mouth and landed on Oikawa’s forehead. 

Akaashi didn’t feel bad.

Akaashi swiftly moved the knife away from Oikawa’s neck (he wasn’t quite ready to kill someone yet, and he would much prefer if Oikawa slowly rotted away in a prison cell.) Instead, he shoved the knife deep into Oikawa’s shoulder, making sure to twist it a couple times to receive more noise from Oikawa. 

Akaashi was sure that the pain he had caused Oikawa was little to nothing compared to the pain that Oikawa had inflicted on Bokuto.

_ Bokuto. _

Akaashi sharply pulled the knife from Oikawa’s flesh, not even attempting to be careful, and his eyes began frantically searching for the cream colored metal box with that distinct red lock. 

Oikawa clutched his shoulder and cried loudly.

“The box, where is the fucking box with our phones Oikawa?” Akaashi asked menacingly, daring Oikawa to try to lie, or mislead Akaashi in any way.

Oikawa just pointed under the desk and continued his incessant wailing. 

Akaashi hurried to the box and pulled it out, turning so that he could still keep an eye on Oikawa, in case he might try anything, and began inputting the three numbers of the combination he already knew. 

_ 3-8-4….1 _

Nope.

_ 3-8-4….2 _

Nope. Akaashi kept fiddling with the combination, inputting different numbers in increasing increments. The lock popped open when he got input:

_ 3-8-4-7 _

He ripped open the box and couldn’t help the tremble of hope that fluttered though his hands as he picked up the phone that laid on top, which happened to be his own. He clicked the emergency call option and typed in the number to the local authorities, that he hoped would save him.

It took two agonizingly long rings before someone picked up

_ “Hi, you have reached the emergency services fo-” _

“Please, help. Come quick, as quick as you can. There’s a man here who shot my _husband_ with a crossbow _._ Please hurry, he needs medical attention.” Akaashi spewed the address of the cabin out of his mouth. He didn’t even know that he knew it.

He threw the phone in his still-damp hoodie pocket, with the line still connected. The worker had asked him not to hang up but he didn’t think it was necessary to keep talking to her. He threw one last look of pure, unfiltered, unadulterated, hatred at Oikawa before hurrying out of the security room and back down the stairs to the bathroom he had left Bokuto in. When he pushed open the door, Bokuto was still alive. He was holding his wallet open and looking at the picture of Akaashi that was inside of it. When Akaashi entered, he looked up, deciding the image of the actual Akaashi was much better than any picture he could have. 

Akaashi dropped to his knees, asking Bokuto how he was feeling. Bokuto responded in an optimistic tone to each question Akaashi asked. This was the only time that Akaashi wanted to  _ thank  _ Bokuto for lying to him. For now they could pretend they were okay 

Akaashi continued playing pretend with Bokuto until he heard a rapping at the door, loud enough to be heard over the storm that seemed to be playing on a nightmarish loop at this point. 

Akaashi opened the bathroom door, with his knife ready in his hand fully expecting it to be Oikawa, but it wasn’t.

It was the man with the crossbow. Dressed in all black, leather jacket and all. 

_ Iwaizumi. _

He was a tad shorter than Akaashi but his thick, muscular build had Akaashi recognizing that this man would easily be able to overpower Akaashi. 

“Hi there,” Iwaizumi had the balls to throw a sickly smirk at Akaashi. 

Akaashi acted on impulse and willfire, hyper aware that Bokuto was in no condition to fight. He rushed forward, pushing the knife out in front of him, not realizing he had clamped his eyes shut, and hoped that the knife made contact with Iwaizumi anywhere.

He felt the knife graze something and his eyes shot open to see that the knife had cut through Iwaizumi’s leather jacket but only just nicked the surface of Iwaizumi’s skin. 

Still Iwaizumi cursed out. 

“Bitch,” but then he smiled a wicked smile. “You’re kinda fun.”

_ Chase me then. Have fun. Leave Bokuto alone. If the man wants a hunt, he must realize that dying prey is not a very good chase.  _

Akaashi pushed passed Iwaizumi with all his might, but the man barely stepped backwards, and Akaashi ran towards the front door. Door was already ajar and as he grabbed the handle to pull the door the rest of the way open, an arrow whizzed passed his head, barely missing, and landed in the door with a  _ crack  _ louder than any of the thunder he had heard all night, forcing it shut. 

Akaashi screamed a scream of pure terror and quickly pulled the door open before Iwaizumi could reload his crossbow. He stepped outside and slammed the door behind him, back into the hands and mercy of the storm.

_ Keep him busy until they get here. The cops are on their way.  _

Instead of running into the yard, Akaashi side stepped and hid behind where the door would open. If Iwaizumi were to come outside, he would jump him. He only had a weapon designed for close combat and he’d be no match if that crossbow were to be fired at him while he lay virtually defenseless at any distance other than within arms reach. Even then, luck would have to be on his side, because Akaashi was undoubtedly an inexperienced fighter and usually a very passive person, while on the other hand Iwaizumi was very obviously  _ very  _ experienced in violence. It seemed to excite him. 

Akaashi let the cold rain slap against his face and the wind whip around his body. He waited for seconds but it felt like minutes of uncertainty. Had Iwaizumi decided to finish off the easy prey that was slowly dying in the bathroom? 

_ Please chase me.  _

Akaashi waited only half a second more before the front door was kicked open. The noise would have previously made Akaashi jump in a scare but his anticipation had built up to a point that the only jumping he did was a jump forward, latching on to Iwaizumi’s back. He wrapped his legs around Iwaizumi’s hips and had one elbow fastened in what he pictured to be a chokehold around Iwaizumi’s neck. His other hand that held the rubber grip of the knife came slashing down on Iwaizumi’s chest.  _ One, two, three, four  _ times before Iwaizumi was able to throw Akaashi off of his back. Akaashi fell with a groan and a quiet dread because he had dropped the knife somewhere when he was thrown off. He felt muddy water splatter over his body, doing its best to weigh him down, but he got up quickly, despite the ache of the fall and heaviness of the mud he was covered in. Iwaizumi was stumbling and grasping at the holes in his chest. Akaashi was worried if the small knife did any damage. It was only the length of an index card and hardly an inch thick. Iwaizumi looked back up and made eye contact with Akaashi. Akaashi felt a strange comfort in the distinct  _ crimson _ trail that he saw dribbling down Iwaizumi’s chin. 

“ _ Bitch.”  _ Came out of his mouth along with more blood. 

Akaashi didn’t give his adrenaline the chance to wear off, because he was already charging Iwaizumi. 

Akaashi knew that every moment after the initial jump was going to be difficult because the surprise factor had worn off. Iwaizumi was a seasoned professional and Akaashi was not. 

Akaashi’s hands immediately went for the crossbow that Iwaizumi was clutching. Iwaizumi released one hand off of it in favor of landing a couple of loud, bone-shattering blows to the front of Akaashi’s face. _ Punch.  _ Akaashi felt his lip split open but he focused on using his nails to scratch and dig into the skin of Iwaizumi’s hand that held a strong grip on the weapon.  _ Punch.  _ Akaashi felt and  _ heard _ the distinct sound of a  _ snap _ and Akaashi knew his nose had no hope after that blow. Blood immediately began spilling out of his nostrils and he tasted the metallic flow into his mouth, which was opened because of the clench of his teeth, showing his struggle. Akaashi managed to pry one of Iwaizumi’s fingers off of the crossbow, before remembering that this fight didn’t  _ have _ to be all hands. Akaashi reared up one of his legs behind him and mustered all the strength he had into a kick dead into the center of Iwaizumi’s knee cap. The way Iwaizumi was standing, with his legs straight and weight pulled back from Akaashi, in his effort to keep the crossbow away from Akaashi, made it so that his knees were extremely vulnerable. Akaashi didn’t know this, of course; Akaashi was just lucky that his kick landed there. Iwaizumi’s knee  _ snapped _ backwards, the exact opposite way that a knee should be bent. Iwaizumi finally relinquished his grip on the crossbow as he fell backwards, splashing into the mud with a howl. 

The pain from Iwaizumi’s earlier blows had finally registered in Akaashi’s mind and he dropped to his knees. The pain rippled from his face and rolled in agonizing aches throughout the rest of his body. Akaashi crawled to where Iwaizumi had dropped the crossbow and picked it up, throwing it over towards the security building, as far away from Iwaizumi as possible. Of course, it didn’t go very far, because Akaashi hadn’t realized just how  _ heavy _ crossbows were. Still, it went far enough. 

Akaashi thought he heard sirens in the distance. 

Akaashi, with heaving breaths, rolled over on his back and looked up at the night sky as the rain continued to fall down. Akaashi breathed in once through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, Iwaizumi’s face was smiling down at him. Akaashi could only gasp in shock and clutch his eyes shut, before he felt Iwaizumi land another intensely strong blow to Akaashi’s cheek, splitting the skin open there as well. 

Akaashi had definitely heard sirens and they were getting closer.

He just had to endure until they got here.

Another punch landed directly on Akaashi’s nose. Blood splatter from his nostrils and mixed in with the rain drops that were already pooling on Akaashi’s face. Akaashi realized that the one thing that hurt worse than getting punched by Iwaizumi, was getting punched  _ twice  _ in the same spot by Iwaizumi. 

Akaashi thought he may have seen unmistakable blue and red flashing lights out of the corner of his swollen eyes. 

Akaashi prepared himself for another blow, shutting his swollen eyes when instead of a hard blow, a soft but heavy thump landed on Akaashi’s face. Akaashi opened his eyes as much as he could and was met with a limp Iwaizumi laying on top of him. Akaashi pushed Iwaizumi off of him and saw an arrow, with a bright blue feather attached to it, sticking out of the back of Iwaizumi’s skull. Thick  _ crimson _ globbed out from the entry point of the arrow. Akaashi didn't even shudder at the disgusting color this time. He looked up from the ground and saw Bokuto standing with one hand outstretched, holding and pointing the crossbow at Iwaizumi. Akaashi looked down at the other hand and saw that he was clutching his wallet, and Akaashi knew that inside of it held the picture of himself. 

‘ _ It always made me brave.’ _

It was over. It was really over.

Akaashi was in the motion of sitting up when he heard the screeching tires and sirens and the sound of cops opening doors and guns clicking while being loaded. Akaashi’s eyes shot impossibly wide as he looked at a cop who was standing behind the protection of his car door, with his handgun pointed directly at Bokuto. 

‘ _ A man shot my husband with a crossbow,’ _

And there Bokuto stood, over the body of a dead man, holding a crossbow. 

Akaashi’s mouth formed around the word ‘No’ just as the cop pulled the trigger. The bullet seemed to shoot in slow motion. Akaashi and Bokuto just  _ barely  _ got to make eye contact as the bullet made contact with Bokuto, going in somewhere near the top of his chest. 

Bokuto dropped the crossbow and fell in a heap on the ground. He was still holding onto his wallet, with the picture of Akaashi inside. Police began closing in on the scene but Akaashi tuned them out. He grasped Bokuto’s face in between his two hands, like the way Bokuto had done to him many times before. Bokuto brought his free hand up to hold on to the outside of one of Akaashi’s hands. 

“So beautiful, Keiji. Always so beautiful.” Even though his voice was barely above a whisper, blood still spewed out of his mouth and dirtied his once pretty, white teeth with an ugly  _ crimson _ . Bokuto smiled the smile that  _ should  _ have gotten him anywhere he wanted in life and put all of his effort and last breath into the last words he wanted Akaashi to hear. Into the last words that would be carved into Akaashi’s heart for the rest of his life. “ _ I love you, I love you, I love-” _

And Akaashi wanted nothing more than for Bokuto to be alive when tried to return those last words back to Bokuto.

Akaashi screamed so loudly, with such pure agony, that he hadn’t even noticed that the rain had finally stopped. 

The storm had finally ended. 

  
  


\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  
  


Akaashi didn’t attend the trial against Oikawa, who had been found in the same security room filled with computer monitors, crying. He pled guilty, with tears flowing out of his eyes, on all counts of conspiracy of murder. There was one count for each of the cabin workers he had a hand in killing. There turned out to be six workers in total. Oikawa would be serving six life sentences in jail, rotting away. When Akaashi saw the mugshots, he genuinely couldn’t tell if the tears that shone in Oikawa’s brown eyes were real or fake. He didn’t care.

Akaashi didn’t attend the trial against the police officer that had shot Bokuto. His family had put in a claim for a wrongful death but the rookie cop had escaped with a slap on the wrist under the pretenses of reasonable suspicion. Akaashi didn’t blame the cop. Akaashi was fully aware of what the situation looked like when the cops had arrived. Any person would have done the same thing. 

He did, however, attend Bokuto’s funeral. It was an open casket funeral and the hardest thing Akaashi had ever done in his entire life. He paid all the respects he could to the man he had shared almost his entire life with. To the man that had a soul made up of the same material as his. Akaashi placed the picture of himself in Bokuto’s cold, lifeless hands before they lowered his casket into the ground. That day, they laid to rest not one, but  _ two  _ peoples souls. The day Bokuto died in Akaashi’s arms, Akaashi felt the twine of their souls rip apart. The twine was made of the veins in their bodies, that pumped the love that went directly to their hearts. But, when they lowered Bokuto’s casket into the ground and Akaashi had to come to terms with his final goodbyes, he realized that half of his heart was also buried that day and half a heart could only beat for so long. 

Akaashi sold the company a week after Bokuto’s funeral. 

Akaashi found that he couldn’t enjoy anything in life anymore. 

He couldn’t even watch action movies. They never felt the same without Bokuto.

He couldn’t even go outside, in fear that he might hear someone say ‘ _ I love you, _ ’ to their spouse. The words he never got to say to Bokuto. 

He couldn’t even drink red wine, what used to be his favorite drink of choice, because the  _ crimson  _ color made him nauseous anytime it came into his line of sight. 

Nothing mattered anymore.

And so, on the day that marked exactly a year since that night at the cabin,

Akaashi was found dead in his apartment, having died from choking on his own vomit because of self-induced alcohol poisoning, 

With three empty bottles of  _ Antinori Tignanello Red Wine,  _ the wine he never got to finish at the cabin, surrounding his body.

There was a freshly finished painting of an arrow with a bright blue feather, trailing behind it, frozen in the rain on, sitting and drying on an easel. 

On the back of the canvas, the only words read as follows:

‘ _ I love you. I love you. I love you.’ _

And no one other than Akaashi knows this but, Akaashi made sure that the last words he ever spoke was exactly that.

_ ‘I love you, I love you, I love-’ _

**Author's Note:**

> um so yeah that was that.... hehe


End file.
